Sometimes, I don’t think I’m enough.
Actually, a lot of the time I don’t.
I don’t think I’m feminine enough — I’m assertive and strongwilled and analytical and strategic. I’m abrasive and stubborn and overly competitive.
I don’t think I’m Christian enough — I sleep in instead of reading my Bible, I selfishly lack to tithe, I skip service every now and then when I’m simply too lazy to make the 20 minute drive.
I don’t think I’m smart/pretty/funny enough — all I want is to go to law school, yet the LSAT towers in my way. I zero in on my lack of a thigh gap (which is totally human, btw) and flat, boring hair. I want to be wittier and more clever.
I struggle with comparison.
When I see my gal Paulina’s Instagrams from her life in Germany, when I hear about my friends interning with the DA, when I covet my best gal’s engagement, I’m simply saying, “I am not enough. They’re enough. But I’m not.”
Comparison is the bane of my existence — it makes me less grateful, more anxious, less content, more envious. It causes me to think others are better than me — they don’t struggle with mental illness, they don’t suffer from insomnia and dietary restrictions.
I look at my life and my friends’ and think, “They have it easy. They have it better. They have the life I wish I lived.”
But here I am, lacking to be smart, pretty, funny, Christian, feminine enough. Lacking to have an Instagram-worthy life, a Facebook-worthy status.
Here’s the thing: I am enough.
Not just because Jesus says I am. Not just because my parents call me an angel sent from China. Not just because I’m good at my job and kick ass at this whole bipolar ordeal.
As unfortunately cheesy as it sounds, I’m enough because this is who I am. This is how I’m wired, who I’m meant to be, what I’m made to do.
I’m wired to be aggressive and bold and ambitious. I’m wired to love Jesus and receive grace when I fall short. I’m wired to be the amount of smart, pretty and funny I am — whether I am or not.
I’m meant to be a social justice advocate, a loyal friend, a woman with a plethora of passions and dreams. I’m meant to be a voice to eradicate the stigma surrounding mental illness.
I’m made to love deeply, laugh daily and live this life to the fullest. I’m made to make mistakes and write them down and learn and grow and fall and leap and fail and exceed.
So when I’m stuck in my bitter barn, scrolling through my Gram feed and coveting my friends’ lives — I remind myself, “Hey. They are enough. This is who they are. I am enough. This is who I am. Call me, Mae be.”